Reflect, Refract
by BornofStarlight
Summary: The parallels between two boys' emotions and feelings with the world around them. Vaguely introspective. Written with HPDM in mind, but doesn't have to be read that way.
1. Harry

REFLECT, REFRACT I

WRITTEN: 25.Jan.07

WORDS: 323

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Harry Potter, and…I actually don't mind not owning it all that much… Seriously. I have my own world to play in, why would I need Rowling's? Well, okay, vacations are always fun… :::goes off to write more in her manuscript:::

Harry reached out to touch the image in the glass before him, fingers touching the coolness…

It was dark outside, dark inside too. The power had gone out, and his room was void-like, but for the line of candles he had sitting on his windowsill. The rain pounding down beyond the panes contrasted with the ribbon of fiery pearls within, and echoed Harry's feelings perfectly.

Inside, he was storming.

Raindrops beat their tattoo against his bedroom window, and the wind screamed at him to let it in. He didn't waste his breath in trying to tell it that it already was. There was a shrill voice racing through his mind, also shrieking at the top of his lungs, begging him to do something, anything, to stop the approaching darkness. The inner storm of his mind was pouring down sharp truths, again imitating the tempest that sought shelter within the walls of Number Four, Privet Drive.

It was becoming too much. Harry put his head against the windowpane, almost finding the vibrations of the storm on the glass to be relaxing. They drowned out his own thoughts, in any case.

The candle flames flickered as Harry exhaled, and he peered up over his glasses into the eyes of his reflection. He could see the fires in them, and the image frightened him.

In less than an hour he would be seventeen.

In less than an hour, the blood wards around Number Four would fall.

In less than an hour he would be leaving the Dursleys for good.

In less than an hour, Harry Potter would begin the search that would ultimately lead him to Voldemort.

And in less than an hour -- less than one single hour -- he would have to bring his inner storm out into the open, would have to let those fires consume his entire being, and would have to give up the remainder of his childhood.

Lightning cleaved the sky in two.


	2. Draco

REFLECT, REFRACT II

WRITTEN: 25.Jan.07

WORDS: 316

DISCLAIMER: I don't own Harry Potter. Harry Potter is the property of J.K. Rowling, and she is welcome to it. I'd rather go explore my own world, thanks very much, or work some more on that language I'm supposed to be inventing right now… :::le sigh::: Instead, Draco wanted to play, too, so…well, here I am. Once more visiting the world of Rowling's creations.

Draco wasn't really paying attention, as he was supposed to be. His eyes had wandered instead to the human-sized window that lined the west wall of their Great Dining Hall. A storm was brewing outside. The rain had been increasing in intensity over the past hour, and the wind outside could be heard now, despite the muffling charms the house elves had placed on the glass.

He loved storms. Always had. They seemed to represent everything his father was not, and that pleased Draco. But like his father, storms had always frightened him a little, too. There was so much emotion in a storm, and he was not allowed strong emotions. It was unbefitting of the heir to a pureblood family, and the Malfoy heir especially.

Or so he'd always been taught.

Draco's gaze slid towards his father, and was relieved to see his inattention had gone unnoticed.

His eyes were drawn to the first flickering of lightning, still cloud-bound at this point, but _there_. He scowled slightly, before hurriedly tucking the expression behind a bland mask. Lightning. Storms _would_ remind him of Potter.

Draco blinked. Well, yes… Potter was everything his father was not, and…

…and Draco was just the smallest bit afraid of him. There was an intensity about Potter that was akin to a storm. He could rage, he could lash out suddenly at people, and he had an immense presence about him, except for when he tried to hide it.

He was a little jealous of Potter, as well. A _lot_ jealous, in fact. Potter was everything his father was not, and everything Draco wanted to be, but couldn't, because it was unbefitting of the heir to a pureblood family, _and the Malfoy heir especially_.

A sudden thought stole across Draco's mind as he watched the storm grow steadily more violent.

…perhaps he would go flying tonight.

Thunder tore the clouds to shreds.

THE END


End file.
